Happy New Year
by Tea-Scones-and-Red-Roses
Summary: After spending new year alone, Arthur opens his tea shop, expecting a slow day. However, a visit from a hungover Frenchman sparks an interesting relationship for the young café owner.
1. Chapter 1

Charred and still smoking, number 12, Pendragon Avenue, was a wreck.

Green roof tiles littered the pavement, cracked and shattered. Singed timber beams lay amongst the smouldering remains of oak tables and chairs, plastic tablecloths melted into the wood. Shards of glass were imbedded in the ash-covered carpet, once a rich, deep blue. The tea room had been utterly destroyed

 _11 months prior_

The 1st of January. The beginning of a new year, a new year—and for many—a hangover. Arthur—sober as anything—stood at the door of his shop and looking out at the street which was bathed in early morning sun and littered with broken bottles and paper confetti. Sighing softly, he reached out and turned the card from closed to open.

Turning, he drifted over to the counter, rearranging the cakes and biscuits in their little glass box. Finally, he leant on the wooden counter-top and sighed once again.

'Today will be slow,' he mused. New Years day was always slow. People preferred to stay in and perhaps clean up from the night before, or just relax. Not many visited little tea shops on the first day of the new y-

Arthur's thoughts we rudely interrupted as a man swept through the glass front door, the little bell ringing cheerfully. The man slumped into the nearest chair, knocking over a vase that smashed on the carpet, sending water everywhere. Long, messy blond hair covering his face. He wore a disheveled purple shirt, the first few buttons undone so the garment hung open, showing off the man's bare chest. Crinkled beige trousers covered his lower half, with brown shoes completing the look.

'Clearly had a wild night,' Arthur thought. Just what he needed, a hungover bloke destroying his shop and scaring away customers. If there were any customers.

Then, the man spoke.

"Mon ami, what do you have to cure me? It appears I may have had too much to drink," he laughed, then clutched his head, "Make that definitely," The man slurred. God, his head was spinning like a top. How much had he actually had?

Arthur cringed. What a nuisance, a hungover Frenchman in his quaint little café this early in the morning. This was not something he wanted to start the year with. "You're not going to apologise for the vase then? That was expensive, you know."

Arthur waited for a few moments without a response. He gave up. "Tea then. I'll bring some water as well. I'd better bring some headache medicine too, hmm?" Arthur forced a smile, trying to be kind to the man. He was a customer after all. The Englishman disappeared into the back of the shop, heading up the stairs to his flat for the medicine. Sifting through his medicine cupboard, he grasped the small box and returned to the shop.

"I'll be with you in a second," he called out to his customer, only receiving a small groan in return. Arthur boiled the kettle, poured the tea and fetched some water. Adding this to the tray, he collected a little jug of milk and a pot of sugar on his way back.

"Here you are, Mr..."

"Bonnefoy, Francis Bonnefoy" The Frenchman managed. Brushing his hair from his face, he looked up at Arthur and then at the mug of hot tea. Tentatively, he reached for the milk and poured a little into the scalding liquid and added a small spoon of sugar. Francis decided to let the beverage cool, so he popped a headache tablet into his mouth, took a sip of water and sighed deeply.

"Thank you, mon ami. Now that you know my name, might I have the pleasure of knowing yours?" Francis Bonnefoy smiled at the shop owner, who was trying not to cringe.

"Arthur Kirkland. Owner of 'The Tudor Rose' tea room, at you service," Arthur may not have wanted Francis to to be in his tea room at that point, but he was still a gentleman and a respectful host. This meant that he couldn't hang an air freshener from Francis's ear to ward off the stench of alcohol.

"A pleasure, Arthur," Francis said, as he drank his tea. "This is a lovely shop, how long has been it been yours?"

Arthur frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "About five years now."

Francis looked up from his tea. "Do you enjoy running this café?" He inquired.

"When people aren't destroying it, yes, I do," Arthur sharply replied.

The frenchman nodded and went back to his tea.

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. The man couldn't take a hint! "You must lay for that. The tea and the vase"

" _And_ the vase? Mon ami. The vase was not my fault. Who puts a vase on a table without flowers anyway?"

"Someone who hadn't had the chance to put flowers in it! Do you know what time it is? I've just opened and now I have to clean up your mess! I would make you do it if I wasn't afraid you'd break something else."

Francis chuckled and took out his wallet. Checking through, he frowned when he saw nothing. He laughed nervously, "I don't suppose I could pay later on? I'll come back later with money, I promise."

Arthur stared at the man, who looked up at him with wide, red eyes. "Please?" He begged, "I promise."

Unable to refuse, Arthur sighed and agreed, "Alright, but you best pay. I'll make sure of it. £2.50 for the tea, £9 for the vase."

Standing up and smiling at his host, Francis nodded and left the tea shop in search of money, leaving Arthur alone once again. The Englishman shook his head and sighed, clearing away the things Francis left behind and heading back to wash them up. This would take some time to clean.

Authors note: Hey guys, since this is new I would appreciate reviews to see if anyone is interested in the story so far and what they think of the beginning. Thanks for reading this, if indeed you still are.


	2. Chapter 2

The 4th of January,

It had been 3 days since Francis had last visited 'The Tudor Rose', and he still hadn't paid anything.

Arthur had just waved goodbye to the last customer, and he walked over to the door to close the shop. Then, he caught sight of a familiar face on the other side of the street. "Oh, bloody hell" he muttered. Francis jogged across the cobbles and was about to enter the shop when Arthur pointed to the sign. "Sorry, we're _closed,"_ He mouthed. Francis took out his wallet and waved it at the shop owner, grinning.

Arthur sighed and swung open the door. "I'm only doing this because I want my money," he stated. He really didn't want to deal with Francis right now. "It's been 3 days, Mr Bonnefoy. W-"

He was cut off by Francis. "Please, call me Francis," the man bowed slightly and winked at Arthur, who was resisting the urge to punch him in the face. Nonetheless, he complied.

"Alright. It's been 3 days, _Francis._ Where have you been?"

Francis laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "Haha, well, I kind of...forgot," He replied sheepishly.

Arthur stared at him flatly. "You forgot."

"Yes, sorry. I was staying with friends and it completely slipped my mind. I hope you can forgive me."

Arthur didn't respond. He took a deep breath and stared Francis straight in the eyes, fury shining in his own. He couldn't believe this man. What a moron!

After a minute, he finally replied sharply. "Fine. Just give me my money and you can go."

Francis smiled, reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. His face filled with confusion as he took out a small note. Arthur peered at the paper which had been written on with a neat scrawl. It read

'iou £25. Took it for beer, love Gilbert.'

"That bastard! He must have took it whilst I was asleep!" Francis exclaimed, his voice filled with anger. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I cannot pay you today. I'll have to come back when I've actually got some money."

Arthur couldn't believe this man. He was simply an idiot if he thought he could avoid paying like this.

"Fine," He replied, letting some of his anger seep into his voice. "You had better make sure I get my money, Francis. Until then, you can help me clean up tonight, as an apology."

Francis bowed once again. "Of course. Helping you out couldn't hurt, I'll do it."

"You don't have a choice!" Arthur shot back, irritated beyond measure. Who did Francis think he was? If he wasn't careful, he would get a slap for being so rude. Francis just smiled and walked over to the tables still cluttered with plates.

* * *

It was late in the evening, and the shop was spotless. The tables had been cleared, the dishes washed, the floors vacuumed, everything; yet Francis still hadn't gone home. He sat in an armchair in the corner, watching Arthur sort through the money in the till. The Englishman intrigued him, the way he spoke, the way he acted. Everything about Arthur implied that he was used to being on his own. He even seemed to forget about Francis's presence in the shop.

Francis observed Arthur as the man stood and yawned. He turned off the lamp on the counter, the only source of light at that hour, and headed into the back of the shop. Francis heard his footsteps echo off of the walls as he wandered upstairs. In the dark, Francis blinked. Had Arthur really gone to bed and left him sitting there?

Quietly, he rose from the chair and checked the door. Just as he thought, it was locked. 'Well, Arthur wouldn't leave it unlocked, would he?' Francis thought. He turned his attention to the counter. After looking for a few minutes, he concluded that the keys were with Arthur.

"Arthur?" Francis called. Nothing. "Arthur?" He tried again. When he received no response, he moved closer to the stairs.

"Arthur, are you there?" He inquired. Again, no response. Sighing, Francis decided his only option was to go up and see Arthur, or he would be locked in for the night.

Silently, he ascended and reached Arthur's little flat. He knocked on the door and waited, but was greeted by silence. Had Arthur really fallen asleep that quickly? Francis opened the door slightly and peered in. No sign of Arthur. He stepped into the living room and couldn't help but look around. The carpet was emerald green and the walls were cream, displaying various paintings of different landscapes. There was a simple coffee table in the centre of the room, and a black sofa facing a small television. Noticing the door on the other side of the room was slightly ajar, Francis crept over to it.

"Arthur?" He repeated, slightly louder this time. A loud shuffling could be heard from the room, and Arthur appeared at the door, wearing only blue-and-white striped pyjama bottoms. When Francis noticed this, he blushed faintly. Arthur rubbed his eyes and looked up at the man at the door, and when he realised who it was, his eyes widened in surprise. Then, he quickly slammed the door in Francis's face.

A few seconds later, he reopened the door, this time wearing a matching shirt. He cleared his throat and stared at Francis, a slight blush on his cheeks. "What the hell are you doing here!?" He shouted. "This is my home, why are you even still in the building?" Arthur looked ridiculous to Francis, standing there shouting at him in his pyjamas, half asleep. Francis raised his hands in surrender.

"I was sitting in the corner and you just went to bed!" He defended. How was he responsible for this?

"You were what? I thought you had left! Why didn't you say anything? You can be such an idiot at times, Francis!" Arthur countered. He looked extremely tired and extremely irritated. Francis decided to ignore that insult if it meant that he could leave quickly.

"Look, can you just let me out? I'll leave you alone if you just come and unlock the door," Francis reasoned. He didn't want to have to explain that he had been watching Arthur. It might come across as weird. In fact, it _would_ come across as weird, since they barely knew eachother.

Arthur sighed and picked up the front door key from his dressing table. He motioned for Francis to follow him as he shuffled back downstairs. Francis trailed after the man. Arthur unlocked the door and looked at Francis, who felt very awkward under his stare. He opened his mouth to apologise, but Arthur just opened the door and pushed him out.

"This better not happen again, Francis," He said as he locked the door behind Francis and headed back to bed.

Standing out on the pavement, Francis wondered why Arthur blamed him. Surely it was Arthur's own fault for just leaving like that, but he supposed that he should have said something. 'Oh well,' he thought, as he walked away from 'The Tudor Rose' tea room and disappeared into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

5th January, 5:30 am

Arthur was awake, and had been for at least three hours. He had been having trouble sleeping these past few days, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it had something to do with Francis. There was denying it, the man was a strange one. There was something about him that was indescribable...

'Perhaps it's how irritating he is,' Arthur thought as he got ready for work. No-one could be as annoying as Francis.

* * *

"Yo!"

Two hours into Arthur's working day, and some loud, annoying moron walked in, followed by a rather sheepish looking Francis. The man was tall, with extremely pale skin and hair. His eyes were alternating shades of reds and purples, changing in the light. Arthur blinked at the man, then blushed slightly when he saw Francis. He still remembered the night before, how Francis had seen him in his pyjamas. Or, well, half of them. He took a slight step backwards and cleared his throat.

"Morning, Francis, and hello, Mr..."

"This is my friend, Gilbert," Francis interjected. Gilbert grinned and waved at Arthur.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt," He clarified. Gilbert flopped into the nearest chair and grabbed a menu which he studied.

"Pleasure," Arthur said through gritted teeth.

Gilbert frowned and looked up at Arthur. "Got any beer?"

"Gilbert! We're not staying for long!" Francis adressed his companion with disdain. He then turned to the owner of the tea room." "Arthur, I just came by to apologise for last night. I'm truly sorry, I should have said something..."

"Whatever. Just make sure that next time you let me know when you plan on getting locked in," Arthur huffed. He subconsciously tucked his hair behind his ear, only for it to fall back into place.

Francis was about to reply when Gilbert announced his order.

"Two cups of coffee please, if you have no beer. One for me and one for Francis," He shouted, waving the menu above his head.

Arthur inwardly rolled his eyes, but nodded and disappeared to make the drinks. He could hear Francis arguing with his friend about how they really should be going. He took back what he said that morning, maybe Gilbert was more annoying than Francis, but not by much.

* * *

Half an hour later, two empty coffee cups sat on the table. Francis was about to thank Arthur when Gilbert's phone rang. He answered and a grin spread across his face.

"Yo, Toni! How's it going?"

Francis, who had been watching Arthur tend to the other customers looked back at his friend. After a few minutes of Gilbert nodding and replying to one-word-answer questions, he quickly stood up.

"Really!? No way! We'll be right there."

Before Francis could ask, Gilbert grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of his chair. "See ya, Arthur!" Gilbert shouted as he raced for the door, pulling poor Francis along with him.

"Hey! You haven't paid!" Arthur called after them, that was twice now that Francis had escaped without paying.

"Put it on our tab!" Gilbert yelled. Francis could only attempt an apology before he was dragged out of sight.

Arthur was left standing in the middle of the tea room, irritated beyond measure. That took Francis's bill to £14.50. He would have to write that down somewhere so he didn't forget. He sighed and returned to serving the other customers, who looked away quickly and focused on their drinks and not the owner of the shop.

* * *

Hey guys, sorry for such a short chapter. I've been busy lately and this is the best my brain could do. Thanks for reading though :)


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